A Washed-up Movie Queen's Divorce Strategy [Rebirth] - Chapter 40

Although Ji Chenli had been discharged from the hospital, her spinal injury was not fully healed. She couldn’t engage in strenuous activity and had to visit the hospital regularly for rehabilitation. Consequently, Tao Yuan had strictly ordered her to remain on bed rest after her return. It took Ji Chenli quite a long time to negotiate for the privilege of spending two hours a day sunbathing in the courtyard.

Schools had a three-day break for the Qingming Festival, so the children who attended school returned to the orphanage, making it quite lively for a while. However, once Qingming passed and those who needed to go to school left, the small courtyard suddenly became quiet again. Aside from one “little bean” who hadn’t been weaned yet, only a few seven- or eight-year-old children remained. These children were very sensible, neither noisy nor disruptive, helping Tao Yuan with chores every day. However, they were also at an age where they should be in school. Ji Chenli didn’t understand why Tao Yuan was delaying their enrollment. She asked Tao Yuan several times, but Tao Yuan always diverted the topic. Thus, Ji Chenli had to wait until Tao Yuan was away and quietly call the children over to ask them while she was sunbathing.

Several children were playing hopscotch, using lime picked up from a nearby construction site to draw regular squares on the ground. They had found a piece of broken tile and were hopping happily on one or two feet. Ji Chenli watched them for a while before calling out to the oldest boy, “Da Wei, come here.”

The boy named Da Wei turned his head at the sound and jogged to Ji Chenli. “Sister Chen-chen, do you need something? Are you thirsty? I’ll go get you some water.” Da Wei was the oldest among the children not in school; he would turn nine after this month. He was growing fast; at only nine, he was already nearly as tall as Ji Chenli’s shoulder. He was a diligent and spirited boy, and Ji Chenli liked the little fellow quite a bit.

“Come back here.” Ji Chenli jokingly patted Da Wei’s shoulder. “Sister doesn’t need water. Da Wei, let me ask you a question.”

“Ask away, Sister. I’ll definitely answer well.”

“Good boy.” Ji Chenli smiled and rubbed Da Wei’s buzzed head. “Da Wei, can you recite those ‘Three Hundred Tang Poems’ I bought for you last time?”

“Yes.”

Ji Chenli was a bit surprised. “All of them?”

Da Wei nodded vigorously. “Mhm.”

Ji Chenli assumed he was just a child boasting, so she decided to test him. “Then how about Da Wei recites ‘Ode to the Willow’ for me?”

Da Wei scratched the back of his head and thought for a moment. Ji Chenli thought he was indeed just a bragging child, but to her surprise, the moment Da Wei opened his mouth, he recited the poem smoothly. Ji Chenli tested him again, “Can Da Wei recite ‘Ascending the Stork Tower’?”

This time, Da Wei didn’t even have to think; he recited it in one breath. Ji Chenli then tested him with several arithmetic problems, and to her shock, he could do addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division for two-digit numbers. Ji Chenli thought the child was very clever, making his continued absence from school even more baffling. “Good boy, Da Wei. Your older brothers and sisters are all in school; do you want to go to school too?”

“I do.” Da Wei was sturdily built and had a strong voice; he answered without hesitation. “Mama Tao said that only by going to school can one take the university entrance exam. Getting into university means earning a lot of money and being successful. I want to earn lots and lots of money to honor Mama Tao later.”

Ji Chenli felt a pang of heartache. Da Wei had been abandoned at the orphanage gates when he was only a few months old; at the time, there was only a note with his birthday in his swaddling clothes. Ji Chenli remembered accompanying Tao Yuan to look for his parents for days. When they finally couldn’t find them, they brought him back to raise him themselves. This child was healthy and spirited; she truly didn’t know which parents lacked the conscience to abandon their own child, especially one so filial.

“Did Mama Tao say when she would let Da Wei go to school?” Ji Chenli asked again.

Da Wei’s expression turned visibly dejected. He lowered his head and said, “I… I don’t have a hukou (household registration). Mama Tao said I can’t go to school without a hukou.”

So that was it. Ji Chenli suddenly understood. For children in an orphanage, simply having a school to attend was good enough; they couldn’t be picky about whether it was a prestigious school. The children in the courtyard mostly studied at nearby primary and secondary schools. These were obscure local schools with no competition for spots. The only explanation was the lack of a hukou.

Going without an education was not an option, and the hukou issue needed urgent resolution. Ji Chenli knew Tao Yuan wanted her to focus on recovery, which was why she hadn’t mentioned the orphanage’s difficulties. It seemed she needed to find a time to have a proper talk with her.

That evening, after Tao Yuan had coaxed the children to sleep and returned to the room, Ji Chenli finally asked her, “Sister, Da Wei and the others are almost nine. Why haven’t they been sent to school yet?”

To make it easier to care for Ji Chenli, Tao Yuan had added another bed in her room. The two were now sleeping in the same room just like when they were children. Tao Yuan usually didn’t return to the room until midnight. Afraid of waking Ji Chenli, she was quiet in everything she did, but was startled by Ji Chenli’s sudden words. She patted her chest and said, “Chen-chen? Why aren’t you asleep yet?”

“I can’t sleep. Sister, why hasn’t the children’s hukou problem been solved after all these years?”

Tao Yuan, exhausted from the day’s work, poured a basin of hot water to soak her feet. “Their situation is special. These children were actively abandoned by their parents, and there’s no documentation. Over the years, I’ve been to the police station, the Civil Affairs Bureau—every department I could. Those people just pass the buck back and forth, dragging it out until now.” Tao Yuan sighed. “I’m anxious too, but the principal said they can’t enroll without a hukou. I really don’t know what to do.”

The room wasn’t large. Ji Chenli observed Tao Yuan by the light of the bedside lamp. Tao Yuan wasn’t much older than her, but years of worrying for a whole courtyard of children had caused white hair to grow prematurely at her temples. It pained Ji Chenli to see it. “Sister, don’t worry. If it really doesn’t work, let’s just give those people some money. Let’s solve the schooling issue first.”

Tao Yuan smiled bitterly. “Even if we wanted to give money, we have to know who to give it to. Besides, there are several children, and that one-year-old ‘little bean’ doesn’t have a hukou either. How much money would that take?”

“Then… if it really doesn’t work, let’s find a way to get media exposure.” A flash of inspiration hit Ji Chenli. “Sister, I’ve been in the industry for years and know a few reporters. They love digging for this kind of news material. Why don’t we…”

“I’ve thought of that long ago, but these matters involve children. I don’t trust today’s media. What if they expose everything about the children? The risk is too high.”

“Then…”

Ji Chenli wanted to offer more suggestions, but Tao Yuan waved her off. “Forget it, I’ll find a way. Don’t worry about it and go to sleep. You can’t stay up late while your injury is still healing.”

Ji Chenli had to lie back down, but after a short while, she spoke again, “Sister, why didn’t you tell me about these things?”

Tao Yuan was quiet for a moment, then gave a helpless, soft laugh. “I was afraid you’d go beg Ming Lang.”

“Chen-chen, back then you were hell-bent on jumping into that fire pit, and I couldn’t stop you. It caused you so much hurt. Now that you’ve finally come to your senses and jumped out, I won’t let you jump back in.”

“I wouldn’t,” Ji Chenli whispered comfortingly. “Sister, don’t worry. I won’t.”

She wouldn’t beg anyone, let alone Ming Lang. She had finally managed to rid herself of her; as Tao Yuan said, it was impossible to jump back into the fire. That fire was too intense, its red tongues like soul-snaring chains—once locked in, there was no salvation.

Ji Chenli thought it over; she still planned to collaborate with the media. She understood this better than Tao Yuan. Some matters simply wouldn’t get attention unless a scene was made.

Ming Yan had gone to deliver flowers to Ji Chenli as Han Xinyuan requested, but instead of a successful delivery, she was rebuffed. Xie Qinglan was gone, and Han Xinyuan had been acting strangely since returning from Songhu Lake, rarely even visiting the Ming family. Ming Yan suddenly couldn’t find a single friend to hang out with. Her parents were away traveling, and at home, she could only stare at Ming Lang’s “iceberg” face. The thought made Ming Yan shudder; unwilling to go home, she went to a bar they used to frequent to drink away her sorrows.

Although Ming Yan was currently a popular A-list star, she had Ming Lang backing her. General media outlets didn’t dare follow her. Even if a few lacked common sense, Ming Yan’s hidden bodyguards would destroy their cameras and SD cards immediately after a secret photo was taken. Thus, Ming Yan had very little negative news in all her years since debut.

She had originally chosen a “cold and aloof” persona for herself. Her manager had advised against it at the time, saying few people liked that style anymore and that fans were precious—who would want an idol who was always cold? But Ming Yan was determined. In her words: “I can’t replicate my sister’s iceberg aura, but can’t I at least try to imitate it? Cold and aloof it is, no changes.”

Her features were fifty percent similar to Ming Lang’s. When she kept a stiff face, she truly had a bit of Ming Lang’s charm. Even her manager had despaired over this debut positioning. Who would have thought that there were more fans in the world who liked “chasing a cold face” than the manager imagined? Ming Yan attracted a massive fan base immediately. Fans who loved her persona were long-lasting, basically all die-hards. She then took a role in a film by a great director, gaining both national recognition and prestige. Ming Yan herself hadn’t quite figured out how it happened, but she had inexplicably become the “acting powerhouse,” “box office legend,” and “national goddess.”

Thinking about her journey, Ming Yan felt the entertainment industry was perhaps a bit too easy to navigate, and she suddenly felt a tinge of boredom.

“Yo, Second Miss is here again? What are we drinking today?” As Ming Yan entered the bar, the bartender hailed her from afar while performing flair bartending with flying bottles. It was quite impressive.

“I’ll get it myself, no need to serve me.” Ming Yan went directly behind the bar, found a bottle of Western liquor and a glass, and headed to her usual sofa.

Drinking to drown one’s sorrows only makes them deeper. With her friends either abroad or on set, Ming Yan was in a bad mood to begin with. The more she drank, the more frustrated she felt. Finally, she slammed the glass heavily onto the glass coffee table.

“Second Miss, I haven’t seen you in years; why has your temper grown so much?” A man’s voice appeared behind Ming Yan. He handed her a cocktail from behind, his slightly low voice carrying a familiar, playful smirk. “A Martini—perfect for your current mood.”

Ming Yan turned around and her eyes lit up. She hooked her arm around the man’s neck and pulled him over the back of the sofa. “Qu Hefeng! You kid, not bad! Haven’t seen you in years and you’ve grown to look like a proper gentleman! I remember when my sister beat you up; you used to wet your pants just seeing her!”

Qu Hefeng was pulled straight onto the sofa. The Martini in his hand wasn’t wasted—it spilled entirely over his expensive, high-end suit. He didn’t mind, getting up with a grin and feigning annoyance. “This is an Italian handmade custom suit! Second Miss, you have to compensate me.”

“Compensate!” Ming Yan laughed and signaled the waiter for another glass. “I was just worrying about having no one to drink with. Tonight, we won’t go home until we’re drunk!”

In the shadows, one of Ming Yan’s bodyguards quietly sent a text message.

Ming Residence, Study.

“President Ming, Qu Hefeng is back.” The butler looked at the message he just received and said to Ming Lang.

The tip of Ming Lang’s pen paused slightly as she signed a document. Without looking up, she completed the remaining strokes. “When did he return?”

“He just arrived this afternoon. It’s said that the elder of the Qu family is critically ill, and they brought him back specifically from the UK.”

“Qu the First and Qu the Second have fought for so many years; it’s time for a conclusion.” Ming Lang handed the document to the butler. “Have someone keep an eye on him first. Also, when A-Yan returns, have her come to the study to find me.”

“Yes.”